In the tradition of the ever poignant words of Wayne from Letterkenny, When a man asks ya for help, ya help em., I found myself strolling into a local library dressed as a saloon girl last night.
Let me rewind.
A couple of months ago, a dear friend of mine asked if I would be interested in helping her out with a murder mystery night at the library she manages. Of course I was amiable to helping her out (see sentiment above), but knowing this particular friend, my Kat curiosity meter was definitely at peak wonderment when she said I was going to be an NPC.
A non player character in a murder mystery event for the public? My sense of whimsy and imminent stories forthcoming anticipation went to the moon! But, as the event was two months away, I stuck the date in my calendar and promptly forgot about it.
And then the date of the engagement arrived.
Now my friend never really told me what the gig entailed, so I was prepared to wade into the murder mystery mayhem blind, but then she texted me day of and said I needed to wear gloves. If I wished to dress up as a saloon girl (The murder mystery was Old West themed), that would be extra awesome.
I always love an occasion to put on some fancy plumage. Plus, I had a skirt from a steampunk party that would work lovely as part of a saloon girl ensemble. Before you could say Miss Kitty from Gunsmoke I was adorned in a rather fine barfly getup.
Fun little side note: Since the town where I was to be performing also is the home of my feed store, I decided I better pick up some chicken and cattle feed while up yonder. The look on the feed store clerk's face when I sashayed in was beyond priceless. I also gotta hat tip some props to the man, for even though his eyes were about to bug out of his head, he stayed super professional throughout the feed purchasing interlude, which is saying something as it is a small town.
Upon arriving, I helped lace my friend into her corset, as she was going to place a spoiled debutante who would never get her hands dirty, Miss Mabelann. Me, I got handed a nametag that stated Sunshine Kate and a paper clipped packet of three papers with my lines.
The murder mystery event that evening was for kids and families, and some of the kids got to play parts in the action. One girl with fire-colored red hair and inquiring grey eyes ran up to me and started interrogating me as to my purpose there. She asked me who I was supposed to be and I said I was a saloon girl. What's that? she asked with a vacant look on her young face. Like a 19th century Taylor Swift," I replied. "Ohhh!* she murmured in full understanding. You see, none of the people at this particular library know me, save for my friend and one other of her employees, a former co-worker of mine. That fun fact made my NPC foray even more fun!
I found out that my character was to be loud, self-centered, and boisterous. Pretty much the exact opposite of my personality. I shrugged and said, When in the goldfields.
The plot of the mystery was as follows; Saloon Sal had some pretty sublime root beer. He and his secret root beer recipe caused angst aplenty among all the players of the romp. The mayor, the sheriff, the banker, the local reformed felon (Dirty Dawg), the bartender, his niece (Mabelann), and yours truly all had motive to kill him. I figured the guy was toast before the end of the first act, and sure enough he was, via a good old-fashioned root beer poisoning.
Then the fun really began. The kids and parents were all given investigation sheets and wandered around the library grilling us for clues. We NPC's all had scripts we were to follow when they asked us questions. I relished the opportunity to mess with so many people and went full suspicious behaving sociopath. One kid in particular believed wholeheartedly that I had done the deed because all I cared about was singing and exhibited no remorse when Saloon Sal died. Heh.
After round one of the investigations finished, some clues were revealed, and it really looked like it was Sunshine Kate(Little ol me) or a couple of the other characters was the murderer. I smiled coyly and did my best vapid celebrity impression while grilled yet again by the attendees.
Finally, it was time to vote for who you thought was the killer. Let's just say I wasn't shocked when every single person in attendance with the exception of two souls voted that I was the murderer. I busted out in maniacal laughter because if you haven't guessed it by now, I so wasn't the murderer ( It was the bartender, he had delusions of success grandeur). This is where the tale got even more interesting.
Every public library has that one kid. The seagull who perpetually hangs about, always in the middle of things, slightly to very obnoxious, and so very opinionated. This particular child at my friend's library was a pretty good size slab of adolescent, and he wasn't too thrilled that I wasn't the murderer, and like all people who aren't well-versed in traversing disappointment, he got, well, triggered.
The big-headed child turned a shade of annoyed red and stomped up to me. You lied! You went off script when I asked you that one question! he hurled this accusation at me like airsoft bb's from a tommy gun.
"And what question was that good sir?" I replied, my eyes glistening with anticipatory verbal sword crossing.
"Well, the one, I, uh, can't remember. But it isn't fair, you went off script!" he bellowed.
"Now my friend," I replied, "How can you be sure that I did anything if you can't recall what exactly it was that I supposedly did?"
My logic was too much for his non-resilient, still-developing brain and he stepped closer into my space, getting ready to rage. I went on,
"It's a murder "mystery." It is your responsibility to deduce the killer with the clues provided, all I did was play my part." I delivered this line with all the saccharine sweetness of a battle-hardened, former public employee before pointing across the room and saying, "Oh look, it's photo-booth time."
If there's one thing you can count on, it's the power of misdirection.
Bulbous Bratface bolted toward the photo-op like all of the perpetually in need of new stimuli dopamine fiends tend to do. The other friend of mine in attendance has only been working at this library a couple of weeks, and I had felt him starting to get a little bit mad as the boy harassed me. I elbowed him and said, "No worries bruh, I speak entitled public fluently."
You see, I retired from my library job at the end of July, after almost a decade of serving our local burg. People keep asking me if I miss it. I don't at all. That chapter of my life has closed, but I am still part of our community, and I still find opportunities to engage with the people I live with. Even the rude and boorish, because that my friends is part of what makes the tapestry of our life timelines so glorious!
I can't wait to see what I ramble my way into next!
And as most of the time, all of the images in this post were taken on the author's non root beer imbibing iPhone.